


Bleeding Higanbana

by jxkuzure



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Major Character Injury, No Sex, Non-Graphic Violence, Past Relationship(s), Post-Episode: s02e13 Mizumono, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 11:58:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2692136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jxkuzure/pseuds/jxkuzure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ravaged by Hannibal Lecter's manipulation, Will Graham survives with a burning passion to bring the monster back into its cage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bleeding Higanbana

**Author's Note:**

> I had a whole week for Thanksgiving and this is what I produce--My procrastination is strong. Like I spent 2 1/2 hours on this so expect some flaws.
> 
> Take this work and don't ask for anything else for a couple weeks.
> 
> Higanbana (Japanese): The flower of bad luck  
> It's also called the Red spider lily and also "Manjushage"  
> Really beautiful flowers.
> 
> I'm just following the bookverse mainly--I really hope in season three we get to see Molly Foster (:

"Bleeding Higanbana"

 

❝So lost, tell me how can it be?

Desperately trying

To understand why

I push you from me

So close, but so far away

I cannot see

How this happened to me

I'm so sorry to say...❞

**❝So Sorry To Say❞ by Celldweller**

 

Crimson painting dark floors, the last gasps of breath, and the slow ticking of time--Will Graham clutched his weeping gash while tears and sweat streamed down his face. Abigail moaned weakly and desperately tried to stop her neck from seeping anymore. Her eyes that use to be vibrant now looked grey and lifeless; such as a fish out of water. Will crawled to her and kept her close even as her last shallow breaths ceased and Hannibal was gone.

Down the hallway, Crawford had soiled the floor beneath him, exactly how Katz faced her own doom. Hannibal scorned and devoured everything he touched. Alana, crippled and paralyzed from the drop, only cried softly as her heart tugged the strings. She still cared for Hannibal and could **forgive** him yet Hannibal gave her the chance. She played the devil's fiddle and lost--now the strings are wrapped around her neck, tugging and choking the life out of her.

New rain falling to wash the blood painted on the easel, Will Graham only cried softly against Abigail's bloodied chest. His pain he could forget but losing Abigail was a damned eternity. A beautiful girl of sixteen now lifeless in her own sanguine--what had been flourished once now crumbling and desecrated.

Will Graham had nothing left in this sphere of darkness except for his fragile mind, once shared by the **monster** he could trust. Hannibal Lecter was the devil in disguise, discording the chorus of angels, and leaving them to fry in eternal hellfire.

The profiler couldn’t hear the oncoming sirens or the police crashing in at the front door—He was already dead on scene.

Will Graham was never fond of hospitals—they smelled too much of ammonia and death for his liking. His room was of a basic size, nothing out of the ordinary, and one window looking out over Baltimore. A vase of flowers was left on his nightstand by one of the paramedics who “saved” his life. They kept him in a medically-induced coma in fears of another seizure attack yet Will Graham was conscious of the world around him. Even in his dreams laced with memories he could feel the knife plunge into his stomach, searing and tearing, and gushing blood. He could remember the emotion in Hannibal’s eyes—it was almost regretful but at the same time hurt.

_I know, they know and now the whole world knows what you’ve done… Hannibal Lecter._

When the doctors allowed Will Graham to wake up—the world came back in harsh reds and blacks. Like a swarm of spider lily petals, the little Will could process were the unknown faces and voices. Nurses in white cared for every need but never spoke of the _accident_. They only cooed their concerns for Will Graham’s mental health than his physical health.

After a few days of being awake, Will could finally see the scars—one large healing gash across his stomach and one down his side. He dragged his fingers across the raised skin and took in a deep breath.

 _He survived_.

* * *

 

Alana was wheeled into the room, her topaz blue eyes casted down into her lap, and Will could see she hadn’t been sleeping well. She also had been admitted to the same hospital; a relief on Will’s part, but they still never visited each other often. He could barely stand without the help of the IV pole and Alana…she couldn’t stand at all. Will wobbled over to Alana and leaned down, wrapping an arm around her and just holding her close. It took her a moment to register the embrace and that’s when she finally broke down. Hannibal left the both of them yearning for sickly comfort and its this type of comfort that brought them closer. Their hearts burned to see the **monster** they both trusted and for Alana, loved, in chains to never see the light of day.

“I’m sorry, Alana.”, Will whispered, stroking chocolate curls out of Alana’s face. “I tried to warn everyone…”

Alana lifted her face and wiped her tears on Will’s exposed arm—a soft smile on her face.

“No, don’t be sorry Will…We should be sorry that we didn’t listen.”

Understanding the faults of the last year, Will and Alana both vowed to capture the **monster** who ripped them to pieces, dragged them across the floor, and ravaged them. They survived and that was one of Hannibal’s mistakes.

 

* * *

 

The plane ride was insufferable—Hannibal’s wounds were keeping him irate the whole ride to France. The little that did heal after washing the blood off his face still stung but unnoticed by even the simplest of people. Dr. Du Maurier said nothing but kept her eyes towards the open window. Hannibal kept his assumptions about Bedelia quiet—not only that, but he purposely let Will Graham live. He lusted for the chase Will was going to start—like a blood hound chasing a fox through the bushes. Amusing yet dangerous game of “mouse trap”, Hannibal was willing to make mistakes along the road. He was _inspired_ by Will Graham’s will to live even when he was bleeding out and trying to save Abigail’s life for the second time. If anyone could take his bliss of freedom, Hannibal would gladly give it to Will, if he could find him.

Europe was a big place and Hannibal knew where to hide. Unlike Will Graham, he could blend into society with nothing more than a smile and a tailored suit. France could paint another **monster** up on their décor, London can reclaim their infamous **Jack the Ripper** , and Italy can hide under their sheets at night—The Chesapeake Ripper was to be feared even beyond Baltimore. He had time to wait for Will Graham.

 _The devil always has time_.

 

* * *

 

Will Graham tucked his children to bed, kissed his wife goodbye, and said farewell to three tombstones; Jack Crawford, Abigail Hobbs, and Beverly Katz. He packed his bag and bought the first plane ticket to France. It had been almost four years since that blood-soaked night and he promised to Alana he would bring the **monster** back to the cage he belongs. He didn't care if it killed him in the process—Hannibal Lecter had to be captured. He was his own team and possessed virtue with both hands. From the outside, he looked like a tourist sighting out the sights, but underneath his shades he was looking for a **killer**.

Early hours wasted, Will Graham stopped at a café in downtown Paris and ordered a drink. Just as the waiter came back with his drink, he spotted something in the corner of his eye. A slim figure wearing dark clothing—a distinctive color of hair and paleness Will Graham never forgot. He quickly gave the waiter cash and maneuvered through the bustling crowd of people. He was losing sight of the **monster** he was pursuing and almost lost him when he was forced into an alleyway.

Up above on the apartment balconies and clothing lines, he saw brown eyes rimmed with maroon—staring at him intently. Like a ghost of the past, Hannibal waved from the apartment balcony.

That was the last time Will Graham saw the devil.


End file.
